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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23858545">I'm Broken but I'll Try</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissusFroots/pseuds/MissusFroots'>MissusFroots</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Song of Ice and Fire &amp; Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU, F/M, Minor Gendrya, No Beta, mostly about mother daughter relationship, so sorry for any mistakes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 12:09:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,322</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23858545</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissusFroots/pseuds/MissusFroots</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>‘Mother - i'm calling for you mother, you've been gone for too long, why'd you go?' </p>
<p>Before she can take the North and join her brother Jon Snow, Arya must go to the Riverlands, and finish something that Beric Dondarrion started.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Arya Stark &amp; Catelyn Tully Stark, Arya Stark &amp; Lady Stoneheart, Arya Stark/Gendry Waters</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>88</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I'm Broken but I'll Try</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is my first fic on AO3, I haven't read the books in 4~ years so if I've got some character info incorrect, I do apologize. Inspired by Flatsound's song "I'm Broken but I'll Try" which is super angsty and sad and made me want to write the end with these two. </p>
<p>Basic AU guidelines for this fic: Arya went to Braavos for around 3~ years and has returned to Westeros after realizing that she cannot be ‘no one.’ Lady Stoneheart runs the BWOB, where Gendry is hanging around. Jon is taking the north back one corner at a time, so Winterfell is still with the Boltons. Sansa is still in the Vale, Rickon is on Skagos, and Bran is north of the wall. They are all thought to be dead.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>‘Mother - i'm calling for you mother’</em>
</p>
<p>Her feet were heavy and tired, her muscles ached with exertion, and her body was saddle-sore from the weeks of riding. By pure happenstance she had come upon two familiar faces at an inn only two nights earlier - Lem Lemoncloak and Anguy - and they had begged for her to come with them.<br/>
The north called to her, her brother Jon leading armies of Wildlings, looking to kill the man married to a false Arya and holding their home under his violent rule. Jon was waiting, and so she wouldn’t hear any of it, told them she had no interest in being in their company ever again. They had treated her as a hostage, had taken the only pack member she had left. They were not a pleasant memory. </p>
<p>She had turned on her heel, ready to stride back into the cold to take her horse, until they said the magic words that would haunt her until she died.<br/>
“Your - your Mother, Lady Stark, she leads us now.” </p>
<p>Arya had stopped, her entire body going rigid, her mind whirring, her tongue growing heavy in her mouth. She bit her lip, wanting to call them liars, wanting to tell them they were wrong. But in her wolf dreams, she sometimes saw a Tully blue cloak stained with blood, smelled the bodies of dead Freys and Lannisters from the treeline. Heard that rasping voice that sounded so close to her mother, yet like a nightmare made flesh. </p>
<p>“Beric, he gave her the kiss, she’s different, but alive. She thinks you’re dead.”</p>
<p>How sweet it would be, Arya thought longingly in spite of herself, how sweet it would be to see her mother. How sweet it would be, for her mother to see how she had blossomed into a young lady of five and ten, who grew into her face and brushed her hair. Unbidden, her mind wondered if her mother would accept her for all the things she had done.<br/>
</p>
<p>“Please, Arya, please just see her.” </p>
<p>And Arya, who had called herself Cat, who had cursed herself for being unable to reach her mother in time, who wanted so desperately to please her, who wanted nothing more than to find her home again, said yes. </p>
<p>
  <em>‘You've been gone for too long, why'd you go?’</em>
</p>
<p>“Arya,” Lady Stoneheart whispered, almost awestruck, she looked as though she would cry if her milky eyes could still produce tears. Arya had thought time and time again about what she would say when she saw her mother again, what she would do. But she was frozen, her three years training in poisons, lies, languages, and murder had not prepared her to face the decaying corpse that held the fragile string of her mother’s soul. </p>
<p>“You’re beautiful, oh my dear girl,” Lady Stoneheart crooned, her voice sounding like a sob. Without the actual tears, it was merely frightening. But dead faces filled with worms hadn’t scared her when she was only two and ten, so she approached her mother and kissed her on the cheek. Her mother let out another anguished noise as she hugged her close to her body. She smelled a bit like death, but not quite, just as everything with her mother was on the edge of now and after. </p>
<p>“You look like your father, like Aunt Lyanna.” Her bony fingers with split nails petted her hair and pressed her close, and Arya let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She was slow to talk, due to the slash in her throat, but Arya patiently let her mother rasp out the words before responding.</p>
<p>“I missed you mother, I didn’t know you were… here.” Arya said, pulling back only a little. She was truly frightening to look at, but Arya was not afraid of death. Even the Faceless Men, worshippers of death, had allowed her to leave safely after she admitted finally that she could not be sterilized, that she could not be no one. There was debate on what to do with her for a fortnight, but the truest and most intense of the training never came until after you fully gave yourself to them, so she did not leave with their secrets - only their skills.</p>
<p>“Where have you been Arya? Where did you go? I never believed that the bastard in the north had you. Rumors said her eyes were brown. I thought you were dead. I thought all my babies. My babies were…” Lady Stoneheart paused in her rasping several times, overwhelmed with emotion and needing to hold her throat. </p>
<p>“Mother, I was in Braavos, learning -” she paused, suddenly aware of their audience of the Brotherhood. But she was not ashamed. She would not hide her past, not to her mother, either she would love and accept her, or she would be appalled, her heart fluttered nervously at the thought of her mother’s possible disgust. </p>
<p>“Learning to be a Faceless Man. They taught me how to kill. But they wanted me to stop being a Stark - so I left. I’ll always be a Stark, mother.” Behind the two of them, Arya heard a spattering of gasps, mutters of surprise and fear. But she watched Lady Stark’s face instead.</p>
<p>She waited for the rebuke, the disgust, the gasp of how unlady-like she was, the wish that she was more like Sansa. But it never came. Her mother’s face split into a smile, wide and with blood gathering at the edges from her wounds. It was as if she had not smiled in three years. </p>
<p>“Arya, darling. You’re perfect.” </p>
<p>Arya started, shocked at the response. It felt as if she had been slapped, rather than embraced. “You’re just what we need Arya, what I need. The Freys and Lannisters killed your father, your brother, his soldiers, your sister was married to the imp, now she is gone, your brothers, dead and burnt alive by that traitor Greyjoy.” Her face turned hard. “So I killed them Arya, I killed every Frey and Lannister soldier that came into the Riverlands. They’ve died out. Gone. The last ones lay hiding in their keeps.” </p>
<p>In her dreams, Arya recalled seeing children hanging from trees as well as old men and women. Every Frey and Lannister. </p>
<p>“We can kill the last ones together.” </p>
<p>She had thought home would have been acceptance, love from her mother, but this felt wrong. She could not respond to her, so Arya had smiled and nodded. Home still felt ages away. </p>
<p>
  <em>Is this what you think it means to be responsible?</em>
</p>
<p>On the fifth day, Arya found Gendry. He had avoided her, she knew this, and accepted it as something he was allowed to choose. It did not mean though, that her feelings were not hurt. She sat by him mutely for a while, trying to think of what to say. </p>
<p>“Usually I’m at the Crossroads with the orphans,” Gendry said. </p>
<p>“Ah,” Arya replied. </p>
<p>“I just do not like - I do not like being with them anymore,” he paused.</p>
<p>“Lady Stoneheart, as you all call her, is rather frightening.” Arya responded. </p>
<p>“Yes,” he finished lamely. </p>
<p>“But you serve her, you serve a Stark, at the behest of your Brotherhood, when you would not serve my brother, even when I begged.” Arya said, keeping her voice even. She bit her lip. </p>
<p>“Yes,” Gendry responded gruffly. “And every day I wish I had gone off with you.”</p>
<p>“Oh really?” her voice was sarcastic, but she was curious. </p>
<p>“We kill children now, if they bear the Frey name. Soldiers who are not older than you, if they wear red and gold. The war has thinned out the smallfolk, and they keep sending mere boys to the Riverlands. It matters not to the Lady,” Gendry spoke angrily, but careful to keep his voice down. </p>
<p>Arya nodded, although it pained her to hear the truth out loud. “I gathered as much.” </p>
<p>“These woods are a cursed place now, but they always can find me, because I always return to the Crossroads to smith,” he said. </p>
<p>“Why return then? A young man with a trade can go anywhere in the country if he has a horse and food, you could’ve stolen a bit of their coin,” Arya said. </p>
<p>“I wanted revenge too. I thought they killed you, and I wanted them to pay. When I thought Bolton had you, I thought of the slimmest of chances that you would escape… I thought you might come find your mother if you knew she was alive. So I stay at the Crossroads, and help with the orphans, and kick myself every day for letting you run away.” He sighed, avoiding her gaze. He stared at his hands. </p>
<p>Arya smiled a little. “You’re lying,” she said. </p>
<p>He let out a noise of disagreement and lightly punched her shoulder. “Still just as stubborn, M’Lady,” he said, “and twice as annoying.” She raised a brow in response. </p>
<p>Gendry grinned at her, his face warm and kind, just as she remembered. </p>
<p>Arya laughed, and she put her head on his shoulder for only a moment, her heart feeling so close to home but still so far. </p>
<p>Anguy interrupted. “Lady Stoneheart has called for you.” </p>
<p>The light mood of their conversation dissipated, and Arya stood, giving him a small smile. His eyes were fond, and blue, and beautiful, but his mouth was in a hard line. She left him sitting against the tree, and went to join her mother. </p>
<p>Her mother was in her chair that worked almost as a throne of sorts. She looked haggard, more corpse-like than usual. Arya felt the tension in the air, and wondered at what it was her mother wanted her for. They sat in silence for a moment, until her mother rasped out, “I won’t have you befriending Robert Baratheon’s bastard. It isn’t proper.” </p>
<p>Arya’s fists clenched for a moment. The shock was less about Gendry being the King’s bastard, it was more about how her mother, proud of her for being a killer, proud of her for holding onto anger, her mother who killed children and innocents out of revenge, still could not accept that Arya loved bastards, whether it be her brother Jon, or her only living friend. A lump formed in her throat, realizing that on some level, it was possible that her mother still meant to marry her off later, realizing that just because her mother was different, did not mean that the world was different at all. But it was Catelyn Stark, her mother, and Arya had always kept her friendships rather private when she was a child, so she could do it again. </p>
<p>She responded evenly, “Of course, mother.” </p>
<p>Lady Stoneheart smiled at that, and offered to brush her hair. </p>
<p>
  <em>You said, "i'll give anything to make this all go away"</em>
</p>
<p>On the eighth day, after eating by the fire, sitting by Gendry and surrounded by the Brotherhood, who all looked at her with fear, awe, and sometimes open disgust, she approached her mother instead of waiting to be called upon. Something had changed with her, she seemed lifeless, which the wicked part of her felt was ironic for a decaying corpse. </p>
<p>Her mother’s tent was simple, something Lady Stark would have never accepted in her first life, there was a jar with pinkies in it, a little souvenir for her, Arya supposed. How utterly morbid. Her mother did not move from her cot when Arya entered, and her stomach did a twist of pain at seeing her like this. Vibrant, respectable, formal Catelyn Stark, laying in a cot with her rotting face and blood under her fingernails. It was grotesque and awful, and Arya almost burst into tears from it. She kept her face calm as still waters and knelt by the bed. </p>
<p>“I hurt all over, Arya.” Lady Stoneheart said after nearly an hour of her vigil. “I hurt all over, and I’m tired. I wanted so badly to kill them all, to end their lines as they ended mine.” She paused, breathing in as she raised her hand to her neck again, “But you’re alive, sweet child, alive and with Ned’s face and our family name. I wanted to be with you when we retake Winterfell, but I suddenly do not feel as if I can bear it anymore.” </p>
<p>“What do you mean by that, mother?” Arya whispered, already knowing the answer.</p>
<p>“I wish for this to be over. I cannot die, I have already died once, and I do not decay, I do not age. I hunger for nothing and have no thirst.” Her rasp sounded miserable now. Arya felt the hair on her neck stand. “Please Arya - please help me go. I want to finally die. I can die now, knowing that my daughter has survived. Knowing that our family is not dead.” </p>
<p>“Mother, no,” Arya whispered, tears starting to roll down her cheeks despite her best efforts. </p>
<p>“Give me peace, please.” </p>
<p>Arya closed her eyes. The gift of mercy was a gift she was well versed in. </p>
<p>“I could ask one of the men to do it,” her mother whispered. “But I want your face to be the last one I see. I want to think of my family, when I finally go.”<br/>
Arya opened her eyes. </p>
<p>“No, it should be someone you love, someone who loves you, and I love you so much mother.” </p>
<p>“Oh Arya, thank you.” </p>
<p>
  <em>Please don't tell me we're giving up<br/>
I need you to be strong for the both of us</em>
</p>
<p>On the tenth day, word had passed through the camp that Lady Stoneheart had asked for the gift of mercy, and that Arya would lead the Brotherhood once it was done. They placed an iron ringlet upon her head, but Arya didn’t feel like any sort of royalty. It was sunset, and her mother was waiting in her tent. Arya held a knife in her hands, she was shaking, although she tried so hard to be fierce and brave. She was a little girl again. </p>
<p>There were whispers between the men, and she tried to ignore them. The only one who was there for her and her only, was Gendry. He was silent and watching, his arms crossed over his chest. She gave him a weak smile, the edges of her lips twitching with the effort it took for even that. He nodded at her, and she wanted nothing more than for Jon to be there, because to cry on Gendry’s chest would be seen as improper. But this whole situation was improper. </p>
<p>Again, she entered the tent. She had only been back with her mother for a week, and her mother would be dead before midnight. Catelyn was wearing a dress of Tully blue and red, as if she was trying to look her best in spite of everything. Arya bit back her sobs, she had to be strong and unflinching for both of them. </p>
<p>“It will all be okay,” her mother rasped. Arya nodded, closing the flap behind her, lit only by candlelight and the vague setting sun filtering through the fabric. She approached her mother and sat beside her, and she reached her hand out to hold hers. They sat like that as it grew darker outside. Arya knew she had to do it, that she would forever regret letting her mother die at another’s hand. This was the final mercy, the one she had to give. Again, she found herself crying, and her mother held her, Lady Stoneheart or not, her cold hands comforting as Arya buried her head in her lap. </p>
<p>“I don’t want you to go again,” Arya whimpered, she was only five and ten. She was still a little girl, and she never wanted her mother to die. She wanted her whole family back. Arya didn’t want to kill her mother regardless of how many men she had killed in the past. She was afraid that her hands would be red with blood until she died if she put the knife in her mother’s heart. </p>
<p>“I will never be gone from you my love, and Ned is waiting,” her mother whispered. Arya’s heart shattered all over again. She gripped the knife tightly, and for a moment, she was in the woods behind the tent, watching the restless Brotherhood and smelling her own fear and grief. She was comforted to know that Nymeria was out there, just beyond the treeline, waiting for her, and it was that knowledge that gave her the power to act.</p>
<p>“I love you, mother,” she said, and she pushed the knife into Catelyn Stark’s heart. There was a gasp, a sound of relief, like her mother had been holding her breath for all this time, waiting for the release and comfort of death, like it really was a mercy Arya was giving her. </p>
<p>“-so proud of you,” were the Lady’s last words, choked out in her final moment, taking all her effort because of her slashed throat. </p>
<p>It was silence, Lady Stoneheart snuffed out, a candle really, compared to the bright burning sun that was Catelyn Stark, her mother. Arya felt guilt wrack her, and she buried her face in her hands, too afraid to touch her again. She stayed like that until early dawn came.  </p>
<p>
  <em>I'm a little baby bird, being pushed out of its nest</em>
</p>
<p>Gendry fetched her after sunrise. He scooped her up like she was a child, and she felt too weak to fight him. She knew her mother would be infuriated at the sight of a bastard’s arms around her daughter, but she cared not. She was wearing the iron ringlet now, she was leading the Brotherhood. He took her to his own tent, and laid her down on his furs, they were old and flat, they smelled of fire and the forge. </p>
<p>She cried into them. He sat with her, one hand on the center of her back. She wanted her mother, but not Lady Stoneheart. She wanted Catelyn, she wanted her red hair and comforting blue eyes. Arya wanted Sansa and Robb, she wanted baby Rickon and Bran. She wished most of all for Jon Snow. But it was just her and Gendry. And somewhere in the woods, Nymeria and her pack of wolves, waiting for her to meet them and go back home. </p>
<p>“We go North in a fortnight,” she said fiercely, breaking the quiet. </p>
<p>“Alright,” Gendry responded easily. </p>
<p>“I’m finding my brother Jon, and we’re taking back Winterfell. Bolton dies.” </p>
<p>“Naturally,” he said. </p>
<p>“I want you by my side when that happens, I want the Brotherhood with me,” she whispered. </p>
<p>“As m’lady commands.”  </p>
<p>
  <em>Climbing back up the trees admitting<br/>
I'm weaker than the rest</em>
</p>
<p>She crept from the tent after a few hours, and it was sunset again. The Brotherhood watched her warily, they had waited for her, Lady Stoneheart’s body was in a small boat, ready for her funeral. A Tully funeral, as she would have wanted. “We’ll give her back to the river, like her father and mother before her,” Fat Tom had said. </p>
<p>The group of fifty or so headed through the trees to the river’s edge, and Arya breathed in the cold evening air. Winter was close, winter was coming. A few of the men carried the boat to the water. It had hay and straw so she would catch, so she would return to the river like she was always meant to. Arya saw how peaceful she looked despite her grotesque face, and a calm came over her as she readied the bow and flaming arrow. Anguy had volunteered, eyeing her warily and wondering if the Faceless men had taught her how to use a bow. </p>
<p>The answer was yes, but she was only thinking about practicing in the yard, avoiding Septa Mordane and her mother, how she was so afraid of displeasing her, and how she desperately wished she could have been talented like Sansa. Now, it seemed, her talents were of a different use to her mother. It took a single shot, because she shot well and true, and the boat lit up with flames. They all stood back and watched as she drifted further into the river, a flaming beacon. The men were worried about drawing attention, but they also knew these woods were feared and avoided due to themselves, and the rumored she-beast from the seventh hells. </p>
<p>Nymeria, the she-beast herself, crept from the underbrush, huge and intimidating, scaring several of the men. They called out in fear but Arya held up a hand and they stilled. “Hello Nymeria,” she crooned. After a moment, her direwolf rubbed her face against Arya’s, and it was like no time at all had passed since they had separated. </p>
<p>The men watched, a little in fear, a little in awe. Arya smiled genuinely at Nymeria, and scratched her between the ears fondly. “I’ve missed you, but you know that.” </p>
<p>Gendry cursed from her right, afraid but not moving from her side. </p>
<p>Her mother’s body burned as it floated away. </p>
<p>Arya turned to the men on the river banks and opened her mouth to speak. </p>
<p>“I am not Lady Stoneheart, nor am I Lord Beric. My mother left me in charge, but you are meant to choose your own leader, that was the whole point of the Brotherhood, or so I was told a long time ago. I want to go North. The Riverlands have been forfeit for months. The Lannisters focus on the wars from the East, and while you can stay if you want, I am going north to find my brother, Jon Snow. I am going to find him and take back Winterfell from Bolton. I will not ask anyone to help me. I will not ask anyone to die. If you want to come, you may, but I will not force you, nor will I punish you if you leave. You are men without banners, and you may stay here and fight as protectors as you always have, but there is something coming, something that brings the winter with it. I cannot stay here and wait.” Arya paused, loath to admit any weakness. </p>
<p>“I know I’m a girl of five and ten, the second daughter and third child, I know little of fighting wars or great battles, but I know of survival, I know of killing. If you want to join me, you may. But I am leaving in a fortnight, and I am bringing fury with me.” She stopped, unable to think of anything else to say. The men responded with cheers. Arya was shaken as she heard their cheers turn to a chant. </p>
<p>“The Queen in the North!”<br/>
“The Queen in the North!”<br/>
“The Queen in the North!” </p>
<p>From her right, Gendry sarcastically asked if he would have to call her ‘Your Grace.’ Arya punched his shoulder. </p>
<p>
  <em></em>
</p>
<p>
<em> 'Little honey pie, i'm broken but i'll try</em><br/>
<em>To fix you along with me tonight</em><br/>
<em>I won't stop until we're fine</em>
</p>
<p>They set off thirteen days later. Arya headed the group, with Nymeria at her side and a pack of over a hundred wolves, prowling in the woods alongside the road. Behind her, about thirty or so of the Brotherhood followed. Twenty stayed behind, hoping to train the young men and women of the Riverlands to protect themselves. They were for the people, and Arya was glad that some had stayed behind. She knew what happened to the weakest when the nobles played their games. </p>
<p>Gendry rode behind her, calling her ‘your grace’ and asking if she needed him to bow to her whenever they took a break. He guffawed every time she told him to fuck himself. She glanced at him as they rode, unable to help herself. He smiled brightly, his eyes were blue and alive. A war hammer hung from his back as he rode, they would talk of his heritage eventually, but there were wars to fight before then. He seemed to be putting in every effort to cheer and distract her since she gave Lady Stoneheart mercy, although he was a right ass to any man who dared interrupt them. </p>
<p>She knew she was broken, in a way, but so was he. So was everyone in Westeros, and maybe the world. But they could try to fix it, they could try to make everything better. She could not save her mother, could not bring her back from what she had become, but she could save others. Arya could protect people and help the smallfolk, that was her purpose. That was what she wanted to do. She wanted to build castles and repair villages and protect the weak, she wanted to change the things that made life so unfair. That was what her father had done.</p>
<p>It took weeks to reach the North. Her feet were heavy and tired, her muscles ached with exertion, and her body was saddle-sore from the weeks of riding. Gendry complained often and loudly, although it was usually just to vex her. They had taken to sharing a tent as the snows grew taller and the air grew colder. Nobody said anything, and Arya knew how it would have angered Lady Catelyn, but she also knew that her mother loved her regardless of all of that. </p>
<p>In the distance, there was a camp of wildlings and northern soldiers who had rallied for her brother, and she heard them bellow a horn to announce their arrival. They waited, knowing it wouldn’t be clever to approach a war camp unannounced. She watched from the head of their group as a man who looked like their father approached with a white direwolf at his side, a large group of soldiers surrounding him protectively. When he finally saw her and her direwolf, he laughed in disbelief, and Ghost and Nymeria ran to each other first. </p>
<p>“Arya!” he yelled. </p>
<p>And she was finally home.</p>
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